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Chapter Text

Myrtle Warren had been crying her eyes out very loudly in an alcove after some particularly cruel words from Olive Hornby and company. How no one had found her by now, she would never understand, but when she finally emerged some hours later, she realized it was two hours past curfew.

She teetered through the halls, eyes swollen and nose full of snot.

There was no one.

She was all alone.

On All Hallow's Eve, no less.

Made even worse by the fact that she was rather parched. And hungry.

She had run out of the Halloween feast in tears after Olive pointed out the new blemish on her chin, and hadn't had the forethought to at least grab a goblet of pumpkin juice or a meat pasty during her grand exit.

It was so unfair. Olive was such a twit. Always pointing something out. Like she was some sort of beauty queen. Just because Olive Hornby's hair fell in perfect curls and she had the newest and biggest quill from the shop at Hogsmeade, she and everyone else thought she was so great. So? She was daft. And her feet were awfully too big. Why did no one ever mention her feet?

Myrtle thought she might tomorrow.

But everyone LOVED Olive, and no one cared about Myrtle.

She wondered if anyone in the dorms had even noticed that she was gone.

Poor, miserable and bemoaning Myrtle rounded a corner that led to the stairway for Ravenclaw Tower, but she stopped short at the sight of a figure on the other end of the darkened hallway.

Frozen, her eyes adjusted as the flickering torch above revealed it to be a person, another student, in fact, who was crouched down and scratching at a place on the wall.

He was muttering something to himself that she could not quite make out. She could, however, see the glint of a Prefect badge on his chest.

Myrtle's feet came to life, making to back track and avoid what was sure to be a chastisement from the boy.

Her movement must have caught his attention, because he whipped his head towards her, eyes ablaze.

He jerked his hand away from the stone and rose, cocking his head to the side. She stood still again, no sense in running now, he had seen her.

The prefect took a few tentative steps towards her, straightening the wrinkles out from the front of his otherwise pristine Slytherin robes.

She knew who he was, of course. He was a 5th year. Older than her, so they hadn't ever really met, much less interacted.

He was Tom Riddle.

Her lungs started to burn as she hadn't breathed, even as he stopped his approach just an arm's length away.

"Slink about the castle after hours often do we?"Accusation coated his words.

Myrtle let out a ragged breath. "I— erm. Got a bit lost, exploring. Lots of hidden things in a place like this."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her, "Indeed."

At any moment he would take house points, give her detention, or call her head of house. Any second he would give her a nasty verbal lashing.

Just what she needed to end a horrible day.

But the seconds passed and he only looked down at her.

He flicked his eyes for just a beat back to where he came from, to the place on the floor, and it occurred to Myrtle that maybe she was not the only one caught somewhere she should not have been.

Tom cleared his throat. "You should be careful being out so late. People might get the wrong impression."

She shifted her weight over on her feet, unsure what he was playing at.

His tongue darted around the sides of his mouth before he continued. "That you're… the wrong sort of girl."

Myrtle blinked.

"Get to bed," he said. With that he left, rounding the corner behind her without a second glance her way.

When she no longer heard his footsteps, she moved, picking up her pace to cross the hallway. But before ascending the stairway, she couldn't help but to drop to her knees to see what he had been looking at.

There was just a scratch, or maybe even a swirl in the stone. She tilted her head to try and make out what it could be, or at least what Tom might have thought it could have been.

A rune? A figure? Myrtle wasn't sure.

When she slid into her sheets a few minutes later, she was certain no one had even noticed her absence. Even as she undressed and rather emphatically dropped her boot to the floor she was only met with:

"Blimey Myrtle, do you ever SHUT UP?" From a bitter peer's voice.

She huffed.

Well, at least one person had noticed her tonight.

~*~

For the next few weeks, Myrtle watched Tom from a distance.

Tom Riddle was popular, attractive, and always surrounded by friends. He was everything Myrtle was not, but she could tell he did not truly enjoy any of the company that constantly surrounded him. They swarmed him like flies that he tolerated for some reason. How kind of him.

He was much too smart, too talented, too different to truly get stimulation from them.

She sniffed as she watched him across the courtyard.

Every so often she could see a shift in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. He hated being around those other boys, and Myrtle thought she knew why.

No one else could see how special he was. But Myrtle did.

It was wrong, she knew it, sneaking around when she was meant to be in bed, but she rather liked the idea of running into Tom Riddle again.

She had only just emerged from her hiding place near the Astronomy Tower, when she heard footsteps approaching. She dodged behind a suit of armor just in time to miss a Gryffindor Prefect, making his rounds at clearing the area.

Myrtle hadn't even had time to consider coming out again when she realized someone else was coming. She bit her lip, hope welling in her belly.

The prefects and staff usually split locations around the school for their nightly checks, so there would be no need for two to walk through the same place so soon after one another.

She had an idea who might be the one bending the rules of procedure.

The witch let the Slytherin prefect pass by her suit of armor before stepping out. It was rather bold, to be sure. But she had been watching and studying him long enough now that she was quite certain what sort of things could get his attention.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, causing him to stop and slowly turn on his heels.

He looked unfazed, unbothered in the slightest. Perhaps he knew she was on to him, that she was too intelligent for games.

"What are you doing out of bed, again?" he asked coolly.

Myrtle giggled girlishly and trailed her fingers in the cracks of the stone.

"You're supposed to discipline me for being out of bed. You aren't a very good prefect are you?"

Tom sucked his teeth in thought, but did not respond right away.

So Myrtle continues, "Unless something else is on your mind keeping you from performing your duties?"

Riddle lifted a finger to trail the line of his bottom lip.

"Where did you pop out from just now, love?"

She shrugged, "It's a secret."

"So you know your way about the castle quite well, then?" He looked genuinely interested in talking to her, into listening to what she might know. A thrill shot up her spine.

"You could say that," she said, "I am quite familiar with many of the nooks and crannies Hogwarts has to offer."

It was true. She had spent a lot of time finding places to moan, after all.

He nodded a few times.

"Perhaps you could help me, then. I have been quite distracted. Obsessed, you might even say. I'm quite interested in all things having to do with the Hogwarts founders. I read that there is a hidden symbol somewhere from Slytherin himself. As you can imagine, I am quite keen to find it."

"What sort of symbol?"

"Something that represents him. I don't know for sure, as I have yet to find it. In your… time about the castle have you seen anything of the sort?"

"No, I haven't."

"Ah."

He lowered his eyes, and she could tell she was losing him, so she added quickly, "Have you looked in the passageway behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy?" For some reason she couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him.

His widened eyes shot back up to meet hers. "No. Where might that be?"

Myrtle swallowed, then smiled sweetly. "I could show you? I know loads of places around here that others don't know about, even some of the teachers."

"Is that so?" His voice was a controlled drawl, and Myrtle could have sworn his eyes held the faintest twinkle.

Rowena, he was handsome.

~*~

And so a fellowship of sorts was formed. Myrtle would meet Tom at night and show him all sorts of places he had never been before around the castle. It was a virtuous enough mission, looking for ancient symbols.

Quite darling, really.

It made Myrtle feel good and important, having someone like Tom as an associate.

"Sneaky little thing," he would hiss when she would pull him through a tapestry, or tap on a statue with her wand to make it jump away and produce a doorway. Some areas required spells or passwords that were easy enough for the Ravenclaw to discern.

Nights were their time, even though he didn't often say much, she would. She'd whine about her woes with her friends, the names they called her, the bullying about her glasses and acne.

"They're just jealous," he would snap, "-at how clever and talented you are."

He would say all sorts of nice things, but he would never look her in the eye as he said them.

Additionally, in public he seemed keen to keep things just between them, as he had never really acknowledged her during the times they crossed paths during the school day.

She resolved that the reason for this was because Tom Riddle was a sensitive and shy boy. He was innocent. He'd never even had a girlfriend for Merlin's sake, and he carried around a diary.

Oh how she longed to read it, to know if he had ever written anything about her.

Plus, no one else would understand, like she did, why he was so set on finding this mark.

He wanted to keep it private.

Tom had confided this much to her one night saying, "I have not been completely honest with you," he whispered, as they strolled through a dripping tunnel at midnight. "You see, I believe myself to be Salazar Slytherin's heir. That is why it is so important to me to find every trace I can of him. I was orphaned as a child, and want to know everything I can about myself."

Fair enough.

He just needed time to figure things out.

Not to mention, he was a bit older than her. Maybe he wanted to wait until it was a little more proper. She could wait. She would wait forever.

There was something about Tom. Something magnetizing. She felt sure he could get her to do just about anything, he had only need ask, and she would.

Everyone would be sorry for how they treated her, when it all came to light. If they only knew. Until then, they would continue on their own personal scavenger hunt.

Myrtle should have felt tired, as weeks turned to months of nights spent searching the school with Tom, but he excited her endlessly. However, as the winter came and went, and it began to turn warm again, Myrtle noticed that Tom's mood gradually became more and more cold and stoney.

Myrtle knew Tom was becoming disheartened.

~*~

It was March, and Tom had just finished his afternoon classes in the green houses. Bodies crowded around him, laughing and sniggering in the way boys do. He rolled his eyes at the banality of it all, when a gentle tug on the sleeve of his robes stopped him in his tracks.

The little vain thing had appeared by his side, in the middle of broad daylight, with a self satisfied look on her face.

"Yes?" he asked.

She glanced behind him at his mates who stood waiting several steps back. She wanted to make sure they were watching.

The girl lowered her voice, making him lean in before sharing, "I found something that might interest you."

Electric sparks danced behind his eyes and he followed Myrtle without a second glance at the boys he had left behind. It would be very undignified to skip in his mirth, at the thought that the little beast had actually found it.

But his joy was tempered when she brought him to the doors of the library.

"I've looked—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Trust me," she said.

Tom ground his teeth together.

He'd be proven wrong, of course. The little minx had found something of interest after all: Information on the last bloodlines of Salazar Slytherin.

He'd looked through hundreds of books in his time at this school, yet she had found a piece of the puzzle he had been missing.

The book told of the House of Gaunt, a very wealthy and prominent family, last known to be located somewhere in Northern England, with strong pureblood ties to Salazar himself, and beyond.

"Gaunt," he said aloud, tasting the word like a treat.

"I checked here too," Myrtle added, sliding a parchment towards him. "A wizard called Marvolo Gaunt was listed— your middle name. Someone related to you might still be there. A place called Little Hangleton."

"You–" he paused, choosing his words carefully. "You will be my undoing," he said, pouring his attention back to the pages. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, fingers trembling slightly.

"You seemed to be losing hope a little. I thought this would help."

Tom tore his eyes from the page to see her watching him.

She liked him. It was obvious. It was also useful. Everyone always gave him something to use to get what he needed.

He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and her lips parted ever so slightly. Little slut.

"It's getting late, and I have to report for my Prefect rounds soon. Are you good to look around more tonight?"

"Of course," she said, biting back a smile.

~*~

Later that night in the midst of their quest, the pair heard footsteps on the other end of the hall. Tom grabbed Myrtle and whipped them behind a tapestry, pressing her against the wall, and himself against her. She could feel his breathing as he craned his neck to watch someone walk by. The long line of his artery stretching, exposing itself to her.

He lifted a finger to his lips, a command to remain silent. Her heart was beating in her throat so hard she thought blood might seep right out of her ears. But not Tom, his face remained calm and collected, with only a threat of annoyance as he waited.

She focused on him, studying his features wordlessly.

He cut his eyes back to her and smirked.

"Professor Dumbledore on his rounds," he mouthed. He waited some more before whispering, "Wouldn't want you to get in any trouble, of course."

"Right," she agreed, breathlessly. "He might not understand our little arrangement."

Heat pooled in her chest, either from the friction of his body, pushed against her, or from the gratitude she felt at his insistence at protecting this thing that they had. He, like her, did not want to see it end. He wanted her help, needed it. They couldn't have nosy teachers getting in their way.

One of his hands rose above her head so he could angle himself to stretch his inspection further, but all she cared about when it came to her surroundings was him.

Myrtle breathed in deeply.

He smelled like milk and honey, and she was the fly, lured in, fattened, and trapped. His attention flitted back to her. She hadn't blinked once as she continued to stare at him, and her mouth watered in anticipation when the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Eventually they might notice you are not on your rounds," she said.

"Damn the rounds," his voice rasped. His gaze flicked momentarily to her mouth, otherwise, the only movement came from the heaving of her chest beneath him.

They stared at each other for several moments.

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and before she could blink again he had roughly taken hold of her face and tilted it up. He pushed his thumb into her mouth forcefully, opening it wide and causing her to make a soft sound of protest.

"Shh," he said, licking his lips. He then hollowed out his cheeks, sucking and working his lips to gather, and then expel a flow of spit from his mouth and into hers.

It coated her tongue and ran down her throat like a potion.

She furrowed her brows in question, but it wasn't as if she could go anywhere. Dumbledore was not far on the other side of the tapestry, and Tom was pressing her hard against the cold as ice stone.

"You're mine now, aren't you?" He purred, "and you'll certainly be my undoing."

Myrtle wasn't sure if she could call what he did next a kiss. It certainly wasn't like any of the kisses she had imagined receiving. He pressed his mouth on her, sure, but it felt more like something being taken, than any sort of exchange.

Perhaps Tom was nervous as well. Maybe he had never kissed anyone either.

Sweet sensitive Tom. They could learn together. There would be plenty of time for that.

~*~

It happened on an ordinary enough day, Myrtle's Hail Mary.

She was in the girl's lavatory, leaning against the stall trying to focus on anything that could calm her. She had stupidly told Olive about her nightly adventures with Tom over breakfast this morning, and Olive had the audacity to call her a liar.

There was nothing else to do but pout in the girls' bathroom. One day she would show them all. Once Tom got over whatever it was that kept him from showing the school who she was to him.

She watched him closely each day, he never spoke to other girls, she was the only one. The only people he talked to were the same "friends" whom she knew bored him. She knew this, not just because of the way his eyes sometimes glazed over when they were talking with him, but also because he had told her.

But the truth was, she wanted everyone to know. His friends. Her friends. She wanted to be his girlfriend.

Her moping was cut short, however, because that was when she saw it.

A catch in the piping of the sink right in front of her. It was smooth everywhere except— she scrambled across the cool tile to look closer— and yes. Something was etched there– a serpent– plain as day, scrawled onto the pipe.

Salazar, I've found it.

~*~

"Oh, Tom," she said, a lilt in her voice as he walked past her. She had been waiting for him there, of course. He stopped, letting his friends go ahead before he turned his gaze to her.

"What is it?" His tone was clipped. He seemed annoyed, but she had his attention.

"I think I found it," she shrugged. She feigned boredom and nonchalance, pretending to be just as effortlessly cool as him.

"It?"

"The symbol we've been looking for, of course."

His face was unreadable, but she noticed the now familiar shift as his eyes darkened in a way that shouldn't, but did excite her.

"I could show you, if you like." A giggle bubbled out of her mouth.

He took a furtive look around, darting his eyes to each side to confirm his friends had carried on without him before taking a step closer to her.

"Where?" He breathed a little too forcefully. His eyes sparkled in a way that hinted at manic.

~*~

Now in the bathroom, she watched as he ran two fingers over the marking in a way that made her breath hitch.

"Brilliant," he whispered.

Myrtle wanted to feel him touch her like that. She pushed her glasses up her nose with her hands, needing to do something, anything with them.

But she couldn't help it any longer, her hand reached out to grasp his wrist.

He stiffened instantly at her touch and turned his head slowly to face her. His nose is scrunched, perhaps from the smells that tend to live in bathrooms. But then in a snap, his face morphs again, quickly into something more sultry. "You will be my undoing, love."

He straightened himself, and ran his fingers through his hair a few times. An uncommon gesture for Tom, to say the least.

"How about I walk you to dinner?" He was jittery, shifty. His eyes seemed unable to focus on anything, but she didn't care. He's just offered to walk with her to dinner.

She had pleased him. So much so he wanted to be seen walking with her to the Great Hall.

~*~

They entered together, and he gave her a wink. Myrtle then set her gaze straight, leaving him standing there as she walked forward, head held high, already seeing the shocked looks from the other girls as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table.

That's right you wenches, Tom Riddle has walked me to dinner. Isn't it lovely? Aren't you so JEALOUS.

Olive gaped at her as Myrtle slid into the seat opposite her, and the other girls gathered around excitedly asking her questions. None of them noticed as Tom slipped back out into the hall.

Myrtle had barely finished her Shepherd's Pie before Olive said something horrible.

"Did they poke him in the eye though? When you kissed?"

"What?" Myrtle asked.

"Your old geezer glasses, of course."

Olive giggled. The other girls giggled, and Myrtle was off, rushing from the table and back to the toilets. Tears streaming, and sobs reverberating on the sides of the stall where she had locked herself.

Had Tom seen her rush out? Would he come for her?

She heard other voices coming and going as she sat, for hours it felt like. Soon the commotion from dinner subsided and she was left with only the sound of her occasional moaning.

How did no one hear her?

No one check on her?

Poor miserable moaning Myrtle.

~*~

There was rustling outside her stall, and a funny voice said something in a language she didn't understand.

It sounded like a boy.

She shifted, sliding her Mary Jane's on the floor to make her presence known, but she heard the clicking of heels, and the sound of something heavy dragging across the floor.

Boys sometimes came into the girl's bathroom, lured in with the promise of kisses or a rough snog, so she wasn't necessarily surprised to hear a boy's voice, more annoyed that someone else would be here for a good time when she was so overcome.

It wasn't fair. Nothing ever went her way.

She set her teeth, and made to sling the door open, the telling off of a lifetime right at the tip of her tongue.

A pair of yellow eyes met her, and then there was nothing.

~*~

Her lifeless body fell from its perch on the toilet. Tom stood for several beats, watching it slump over. Myrtle's head hit the side of the stall, hard, and then the rest of her sunk down all the way to the floor. He could hear the slither of the basilisk beside him, eager to get closer.

"Stop," he commanded in Parseltongue.

"Kill, kill. Eat," it hissed back.

He held a hand up to the beast and it retreated into the corner, saliva dripping from its mouth in hunger.

Tom bent beside her, and let the tips of his fingers brush her cheek tentatively, before forcing her blank and staring eyes to look at him.

He squeezed her cheeks between his fingers and his thumb and watched as the color faded from her. Her body was still warm, but not for long. The heat was seeping away beneath his very fingers.

Such a pathetic little thing. But it had to be done. He had to rid himself of every temptation, any weakness that would get in the way of him becoming the most powerful wizard in the world.

Of being the Master of Death itself.

What had he felt for the girl? Lust? A desire to overpower and control. It would have been lovely to take his time with her. Make her scream and beg him to stop.

But if he were going to be successful in all he wanted to do, he had to be disciplined. Controlled. Power did not come to the foolish. He could not taint himself in any way. That was why she had to go.

He skirted two fingers from his free hand over the corner of her mouth, catching blood that must have come from the force of her hitting her head. Tom brought it closer to inspect, and his face wrinkled in disgust.

It was just blood; red, and slippery. It glittered like liquid rubies as it made a trail and pooled into the palm of his hand. He stared at it for some time before clenching his fist together, allowing some of it to squelch between his fingers.

He took his thumb, coated in her blood, and slid it into his mouth slowly, dragged his teeth against it, and sucked her off of him.

It didn't taste dirty at all, but sweet.

It was just blood.

The creature gnashed its teeth together in desire.

He knew he would have to feed the beast something. He'd figure that out later. If she just disappeared it wouldn't quite give the same effect, after all.

Sweet, stupid, little Myrtle. You'll be my undoing. My soul fracturing undoing. And this is only the beginning.

~*~

June 13th, 1943

Breath and life are fickle things that can be stolen. But no one steals what rightfully belongs to them. I am taking back everything that I have been owed.

Tom Marvolo Riddle…

Dr. Oliver Malt Doom

Immortal Dove Lord

Mad Overlord Molt I

I am Lord Voldemort —-I like that better as a moniker.

This summer I plan to give my family a visit.

I finally feel free of something pesky that might have been lingering. I can't put a name to it, but it was like a thin string that kept me trapped. It's unraveled now.

Undone.

Nothing can contain me now.

They say you never forget your first.

I suppose I won't.

Chapter Text

For Fairest of the Rare

Prompt: Come What May

Tom could tell she was staring at him. 

He could feel her big, bespectacled, hopeful eyes watching his every move like a gnat to flame. 

He pretended not to notice, feigning disinterest. But that was only half way true, wasn’t it?  

Tom Riddle was infested with interest in Myrtle Warren, but not in the way she wanted.

His first would need to be easy; unchallenging. A conquest to help him learn the ropes and become good at it .

His mouth practically watered at the prospect of it all.

Come what may, he would become the Master of Death.